I waited for years to take my son to a stream.
The thought of it was as exciting as catching my dream.
Then came the day that we packed and left home,
For the first time together,
Not dad alone,
He with a spinning rod, I with my flies.
Into the morning, cast upon cast,
Always watching him with a loving glance.
Then, with his hip boots he wandered too far into the flow,
Into his hip boots ran the water,
I could feel the chill.
Onto the bank went the son,
Wet and disheartened, his day all but done.
I waded to him and went up to shore,
Gave him my waders and fly rod and more.
He looked at me with question,
Asked what I would do and I told him I'd teach him,
Show him what to do.
Out into the stream we went,
He with my fly rod and vest.
The lessons were quick, his learning skills quicker.
One cast, then another and soon he connected,
With first rainbow on line, then another, another.
I sat back on the bank, watched him for the rest of the day.
He never stopped smiling, still does to this day.
That lives in my memory as my catch of the day. ~ David Salamone (Skyhawk83)
